Three Things I Pray
by nintend0fr33k
Summary: Loki has fallen from Asgard, only to be pulled out of the void by of all things, a prayer. But who would pray to the God of Mischief? Loki/OC. Rated T for now, though it will go up to M in the future. AU/Loki isn't going to be a total heartless bastard in this one! Though I promise to add some darker moments. Please read!
1. The Prayer

**Author's Note: Hi guys! Wow, okay, so this is my first attempt at a fanfic! I'm super nervous for all of your feedback, but excited because I feel like I can create something wonderful here! I really want to know what you guys think about this first chapter, so don't hold back! Suggestions please! Enjoy! :)**

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"I could have done it, father! I could have done it, for you. For all of us." Dangling from the end of his very own scepter, clinging for dear life, Loki called up to his father. His emerald green eyes held all the sorrow and defeat of a sullen little boy. Loki knew his father would be angry with him for all that he had done while Odin slept. Why did he keep up with this charade? A father? Yes. Allfather? Yes. His father? No. Odin was not _his_ father.

"No, Loki." Odin scolded gently, eye cast down with a mixture of disappointment and care.

Looking up at the man he had loved all his life, the man he had strove to be, Loki's face fell. He was defeated, his pride wounded beyond all repair. Odin had stolen Loki away from Jotunheim, lied to him for all the summation of his childhood and far into adulthood, cared for him at his best and worst times, and loved him as a son; As his own son. Yet Loki could not find it within himself to seek Odin's forgiveness. He couldn't bring himself to beg for retribution, for a pardon of his sins. He was angry and hurt, and perhaps even slightly confused. The God of Lies had been lied to. The God of Mischief had been played a fool. He would not go back to them now, perhaps he would not ever return.

Before even he realized what he was doing, Loki's face twisted in pain, the inner war he was having inside himself raged on, and he released his hold on the scepter. _How symbolic._ He quipped internally, as he looked up to his brother and father, their faces growing ever distant as he fell into the void. _Odin and Thor._ He corrected himself.

"Loki, no! NOOOOO!" Thor bellowed down to his brother, reaching out as far as he could stretch to grasp at Loki's falling form, but it was too late, Loki was lost to Asgard.

"No." Odin whispered as he watched his beloved son fall into nothingness. To Odin, Loki was just as much akin to him as Thor. He loved them equally. It was not until that very moment he realized the error of his ways. He should have explained things to Loki from the beginning. He should have known how this would have played out.

And in that moment, Odin felt ashamed.

* * *

Loki couldn't calculate just how long he'd been falling, or where he was falling toward. He had long since closed his eyes, in wait for the impact. Or perhaps, there would be no impact? Perhaps he would float on forever, never reaching a destination. It was of no consequence to him. The silence was peaceful, even if it made his thoughts echo ominously in his head. And there were many, many thoughts to be heard. The scene played out in his mind, over and over again. All he could hear was Odin's voice clear in his mind. _"No, Loki." _Each time it replayed, his heart grew harder, dark thoughts trickling down his entire form. There were so many ways he could end Odin, yet he could never bring himself to do so. He cursed himself for his weak conviction.

After what felt like hours, days even, Loki's eyes snapped open. The sound of something other than his thoughts had intrigued him.

"_Loki, God of Mischief, I call to thee."_

"Er, What?" He asked aloud, as if perhaps he had misheard. He hadn't.

"_Loki, God of Mischief, I call to thee. Hear my humble prayer."_

_A prayer? _He thought incredulously. Loki had not even been aware that he could _be_ prayed to. Though, after a moment of musing, he _was_ a god. Perhaps no one had ever tried to pray to him. His heart jumped in his chest as the voice sounded again.

"_Loki, I pray to thee, and ask for your guidance." _The prayer seemed dance inside his head, turning his hardened heart just a tad softer. The voice behind the prayer was soft and lyrical, as if it was a song composed just for him. He continued to listen, and prayed himself that the voice wouldn't cease. _"I ask for your guidance, Loki. I need you." _The last part, he was certain, wasn't intended to be a part of the prayer, as it was a mere whisper in his own mind.

And just as quickly as it came, the voice had vanished, leaving Loki to his own devices once more. A looming grief washed over him like waves cleanse the sand. The thought of someone believing in him, so much so, to go as far as to _pray_ to him was strangely pleasant. The sentiment made the frost in his veins thaw, ever so slightly. He simply had to find the owner of the prayer, if for nothing more than his own devilish curiosity.

_But, how? _Loki mused, forgetting momentarily, that he was still floating in the void. Surely this being was mortal, if they were praying to him. No immortal, certainly none of Asgard, held him in such high regard as to offer something as intimate as a prayer. By the sound of the voice, it was a Midgardian female, of that much he was certain. As much as he disliked Midgard, and everything it stood for, he was determined to answer this prayer. _And why not?_ He asked himself. It was the only one he'd ever received.

It was then Loki felt the tugging of gravity on his form. He closed his eyes once more as he began his descent toward the realm he had been hoping to avoid, and so desperately wishing to find. As his body began to accelerate, so did his mind. As he hit a free fall, he smiled inwardly, all the while the voice looping inside his head.

"_I need you."_

Perhaps, there was salvation for him.


	2. Midgard

**Okay guys! Here's chapter two. I know it's short, but I'm literally writing this as we speak. I just started it like an hour ago, so it's not going to be perfect. You can of course leave me some criticism or suggestions, either will be much appreciated!**

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The impact was every bit as painful as Loki assumed it would be, but he has endured worse pain. He had endured worse on this very day, in fact. Yet somehow, falling from Asgard was the farthest thing from his mind. Opening his eyes, he looked up to the sky from where he had fallen. The stars that met his eyes were not the ones of Asgard, not to his surprise. The view was beautiful, even to his judgmental eyes.

_So this is Midgard._ He thought as he pulled himself up from the dusty ground. Ignoring the creaking in his bones, he brushed himself off and turned to survey his surroundings. There wasn't much to behold, as he had landed in a secluded area. He scoffed at his unusual turn of luck. That was the last thing he had needed on this day, to hit the ground with mighty force in an area teeming with Midgardians. No doubt, they'd have asked him questions he did not feel like answering, or crowded around him to marvel at the mere fact that he was still alive.

He was unsure of exactly where in Midgard he was, but it was of no matter. He could simply transport himself anyplace he liked, assuming his magic worked in this realm. At this moment, however, the only place he wanted to be was with the owner of his prayer. He longed, perhaps even selfishly, to find the mortal. Looking down at his hands, he conjured a bright green flame within them, testing his abilities. He sighed in relief. _So my magic will work in Midgard. _He smiled at his fortune. Without magic, Loki wasn't much of a threat. At least now he knew he had a way to defend himself if the need were to arise.

Realizing had any mortal wandered near him that he would look quite out of place, he concentrated on shifting his appearance to that of a more Midgardian style. A pair of form fitting black pants and an emerald green t-shirt replaced his normal Asgardian armor. As an afterthought, he added a black vest over his green shirt, and a long green scarf around his neck, to accent his shirt. When he was certain his clothing was acceptable enough, he created a double of himself to assess his appearance. _Not half bad._ He mused, pleased with his work. He was partial to his normal attire, but this would surely blend in with the mortals.

Running a hand through his raven hair, he sighed heavily, unsure of what his next move should be. He had no earthly idea where in Odin's name he was, or where to begin his search. Only then did it occur to him to wonder how this mortal knew of his existence? He understood that ancient Midgardians had worshiped those of Asgard as deities, but that was long ago on Asgard and longer still on Midgard. He was lost in his wondering, when again he heard a prayer.

"_Loki, God of Mischief, I call to thee. Loki?" _The now familiar voice sighed, _"I must be insane. I'm talking to myself pretending an ancient Norse God can hear me."_ Loki chuckled lightly at this, truly amused by the mortal's words. _"Loki, if by some force of magic you are real, and you can hear me… I-" _The voice broke off for a moment, seeming defeated. _"Well, I could really use a little mischief."_ And with that his mind was silent again.

"I'd be happy to oblige, mortal." He uttered softly, before he even realized he had said it. It was still so strange to him, hearing a prayer. Until recently, he hadn't even considered it possible. Was this what Odin heard when people prayed to him? The name stung his heart dully, as he remembered how he had ended up on Midgard in the first place. Clearing his head of whatever leftover regrets were lingering there, he focused on recalling the voice that sounded in his head. It was truly amazing to him that it was as if she had been standing right next to him speaking the words.

How he wished he could answer her prayer at this very instant, so much it almost pained him. Using whatever energy he could muster, he used his pain to pull himself toward her. In an instant, he was before her, cloaked of course. He couldn't give himself away just yet, that would just seem… desperate. As he searched his new surroundings, his eyes stopped on the form of a praying woman.

And in that moment, he couldn't breathe.


	3. Mischief

**Alright people, here comes chapter three! I want to extend a HUGE thank you to MissyNova for being my FIRST EVAR reviewer! She is really too kind. ^_^**

**Now, I might add, in this chapter, I know I'm kinda fluffy and I apologize. Also, I have warned, this is going to be AU. I can't really write a super evil Loki. Don't fret, he will have his diva bitch-fits and temper tantrums, believe me. But evil? Loki? Pfffft, not in MY stories!**

**As always, please review and lemme know what you think! :) **

**3 Nintend0fr33k**

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"I must be out of my mind." Her voice was soft, in resigned defeat. Surely there was no God of Mischief. The very thought was laughable. How could she be so naive? _I can't believe I'm actually kneeling at an altar, praying. _She thought as she surveyed herself, and the altar she had created before her. It was a small, rounded table, adorned (coincidentally) with a deep green silk cloth and various candles and symbols of intention.

In the center of the rounded altar she had placed a small necklace of hers. The amulet was silver, with a dark jade stone in the center, ovular in shape and engraved on the back. The engraving was in Gaelic, the language of her ancestors, and read one simple word. Eireann. She had placed it there as an offering, and a symbol of her dedication to Loki. Looking down at what she had made, she shook her head in disbelief. She wasn't even sure if this was how it worked, praying to a god.

"Look at yourself Eireann, you're kneeling, _actually kneeling_, and praying to Loki." She laughed suddenly, as she rocked back onto her feet to stand. As Eireann stood and turned to walk back to her bed, the hairs on her neck stood straight on end. A shiver ran across her entire form. Dark green eyes scanned her room, looking for something out of place. Taking a step back, she pulled her eyebrows in tight. There was certainly something different, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Drawing her pale arms about her, she shuddered again. Was it drafty in there all of a sudden, or was it just her imagination?

Drawing a shaky breath inward, she continued her walk to her bed. Pulling her black covers out of the way, she dove into her little nest, throwing the blankets over herself. _What is different in here?_She wondered, laying her head back on her pillow. Looking over to her altar, she half smiled, half frowned. "If only." She sighed. Waving her hand toward the altar, the flames of the lit candles extinguished themselves.

As Eireann closed her eyes, she could have sworn she heard a nearly inaudible gasp.

* * *

Loki watched as the mortal woman before him warred with herself. He had considered revealing himself to her then, just to make her stop. He feared for the woman (Girl? He wasn't exactly sure how age worked on Midgard), thinking that she would perhaps come unhinged if she sat there and debated with herself on his very existence. He smiled at the sound of her soft voice, but was saddened by what she had to say.

"Look at yourself, Eireann, you're kneeling, _actually kneeling_, and praying to Loki." Loki had been half amused, and half stung by those words. He was a God, was he not? He was surely worth praying to! He stopped then, to consider that that might not have been what she meant. Choosing to assume that the mortal wasn't blaspheming his name, he turned his eyes to her from.

It took a moment for him to drink her in, until he was scarcely sure he could look away. Even from behind, she was tragically beautiful. Her hair was like fire, cascading down just slightly under breast, in a tangle of waves and curls. Skin, like liquid ivory, pale as the moons of Asgard. Her beauty nearly angered him, for more than one reason. Primarily, because no mortal should be allowed to be as beautiful as the Gods; And secondly, because Asgard held no one as pleasing to the eye as she.

His anger stilled however, as she stood and turned to face him; for as he beheld her face, he was certain he would never know of anger again. Her eyes were, quite possibly, the most vehement shade of green he'd ever had the fortune of seeing. Perhaps even more enthralling, were the pair of lips she bore, like two rose petals in bloom. The way they sat, at a natural frown, made Loki only want to see her smile evermore, as if it were some primal need.

And as he realized she was looking right into his eyes, Loki felt his mind grind to a halt. The gears in his head began to turn again, as she walked toward him. He had to swiftly sidestep, narrowly colliding with her. He turned, to watch her crawl into her bed. She had all the poise and grace of a cat, stalking it's pray. Something in the lower half of his body reacted to watching her. At this moment, Loki was glad she couldn't see him, for his face was glowing red with embarrassment. What powers did this mortal woman have over him? No woman of Asgard had ever made him react in such a primal way before, and he felt the anger creep at him again, only to be once again washed clean by her voice.

"If only." She had said; Loki was confused by this. If only what? If only he existed? He did! If only he could hear her? He could!

Loki was warring inwardly with himself, as he noticed the mortal gesture toward the altar. Turning to look, he witnessed the flames of the candles that adorned the small shrine to himself (which did wonders for his wounded ego, I might add) cease their flame. At that moment, Loki realized he had yet to breathe.

Inhaling sharply, he looked over to the mortal, whose eyes were now closed. Her body was relaxed now, and Loki was certain she was near sleep.

_Magic?_ He thought, almost pleadingly. _This mortal possesses magic? But I thought the magics were lost to Midgard eons ago? That is what I was told. Can all Midgardians weave magic?_ Loki continued to war with himself, as he turned back to the altar the woman (_Eireann, had her name been?_ ) had made in his name. Looking down, he made sure he could hear the heavy pant of sleep before he beheld the amulet in the middle of the altar. Smirking, almost triumphantly, he picked up the necklace.

At that moment, her previous words echoed in his mind. _"Well, I could use a little mischief."_ With that, he placed the amulet around his own neck, and turned once more to look at the mortal. She looked peaceful in her resting state. It was at that moment that Loki too felt the longing for sleep drizzle down his bones. But where was he to go?

_Well_, he thought, _her bed is rather large._ As Loki crawled weightlessly in next to her, he wondered if he could remain cloaked while he slept. He was certainly going to find out.

And with that, the God of Mischief was sleeping like a baby.


	4. Three Things I Pray

**Whoo... this one was difficult. I wasn't exactly sure _how_ I was going to continue from the last chapter, but I think I did an alright job here. If you can't tell, Loki is a bit moody in this one... xD **

**Anyway, hope you like it! And a big thank you to everyone who's reviewed (all three of you xD)!**

**Read on, my friends!**

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Eireann blinked as she awoke, her face toward the ceiling. As she moved to stretch, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. As she turned to look, it was gone. Shrugging the nagging feeling at the pit of her stomach off, she sat up and looked around her room. With a monstrous yawn, she stood and surveyed her room. Something was definitely different, she had decided. The same feeling crept up her spine as yesterday, not fear—something else. What was that feeling?

Before she could place her finger on it, she averted her gaze to her small altar. Moving swiftly toward it, her heart caught in her chest, she gasped. "My necklace!" she practically shrieked, "It's gone?" She half asked, half exclaimed. Her mind was alive with the buzzing of thoughts; so many questions whirled around inside of her. As she simultaneously waved her hand to light the candles, and dropped to her knees, her heart jumped to her throat. Was she going to cry?

Blinking back the tears in her eyes, Eireann closed her eyes and prayed as fiercely as she had ever before.

* * *

Loki looked over to her sleeping form, watching as she slept. He found himself so immersed in studying the way her nose twitched, the way she rolled around and readjusted herself what seemed like every other hour, at the subtle way her chest rose and fell as she inhaled inward and exhaled rhythmically. He had awoken before her (_What is with this turn of luck I'm having lately?_), and much to his surprise found he could indeed _not_ remain cloaked while sleeping. He made a mental note of that, before returning his attention to the mortal in front of him.

To his horror, her eyes were open wide, and fixed upon the ceiling. Before he could even think, or breathe for that matter, he had vanished. And just in time, as he noted, for the mortal was now looking to the spot where he had just been. He watched, from his new location across the room, as she stood and looked around the room. Loki laughed inwardly at the way she kept examining her surroundings. _Is this not her quarters? Why does she look at it through a stranger's eye?_ Before his thoughts finished, she had moved at blinding speed toward her shrine to him. Ah, the thought of a shrine to him made his ego bloom each time he looked toward it. But to his confusion, she had screamed. Pushing past the possible bleeding of the ears, he moved toward her cautiously.

"My necklace! It's gone?" He couldn't make out the tone of her voice. Was she upset? Loki drew his eyebrows in tight, in a face twisted with confusion. He watched as she lit the candles of the altar with her magic, and dropped to her knees. And was she…? Was she _crying?_ Loki's stomach dropped to his feet. He hadn't meant the mortal harm. Why was it that every time he tried to help he ended up royally mucking thinks up? His hand moved to the necklace, now around his neck, and touched it gingerly. Before he had the chance to remove it, or speak, or _something_, he was frozen dead in his tracks. The mortal before him was praying again… _to him._

"Loki?" Her voice quivered, amplified in his own mind, as she frantically wiped away a tear. "God of Mischief…." She paused, taking a large breath inward. "Can you hear me?" Her last words came out as a pathetic sob.

Loki stood there, just out of her reach, and watched as the mortal prayed to him. Had he seen his own face, he would have noticed the small tears that were falling from his own eyes. He, however, was unaware to this fact, for his mind was worlds away. Why was this happening to him now, when he was so jaded and broken? Where were this mortal's prayers twenty years ago? Two hundred years ago? Where was she when he was new? When he was but a young prince, playing in the corridors of Asgard's palace with Thor? How dare she? How _dare_ she come to him now, when he was _this._

Loki felt all the rage and sorrow of the worlds burn into his mind, as her next words echoed loudly.

"Day by day." Wait, was she _singing?_

"Day by day… oh dear Lord, three things I pray." _Why is she singing?_

"To see thee more clearly." _What?_

"Love thee more dearly." _W-what?_

"Follow the more nearly, day by day." Her voice, soft and piteous, stopped suddenly as she began to laugh manically. Loki looked as if he would tear in half at any moment; his face a mixture of anger, confusion, and fear. Was this mortal woman _daft?_ Why was she laughing? Was she not just crying?

"I am officially insane." She said as she lay back on her floor, and placed her hands under her head. "I just sang Godspell in a prayer to a Norse god who doesn't even exist." Her eyes closed as she sighed and wiped away a tear. "What has my life be come?"

Loki then, as if in a fit of rage, uncloaked himself and looked down at the mortal before him. "I _do_ exist dammit!"

Eireann's eyes snapped open, and in an instant she was sitting up. "What the _FUCK?"_


	5. Introductions

**Oy! This one is a doozy! It took me forever to write, as my computer has severe mental retardation, but it's done finally! This is probably the longest chapter thus far, but I had to find just the right place to end it. Also, I just _had_ to add that line from the Avengers in there. It's literally one of my favorite lines EVAR!**

** So, tell me what you think! Reviews people, I crave them! :D**

**Also, I'm trying to make Loki seem more believable. Is it working? xD**

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In the instant Loki revealed himself he realized his mistake. The mortal woman before him looked as if she would keel over at any moment, and was noticeably shaking where she stood. She had scrambled to her feet, and backed herself into the farthest corner of her room. Loki, looking rather confused himself, stared back at her. They stood this way for what seemed like ages, lifetimes, until Eireann finally broke the silence.

Her eyes never left the God's form, partly because she was currently scared shitless, and partly because he was undoubtedly the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. His eyes were the first things she noticed about him, green as her own, yet so very different. His eyes seemed to take on a life of their own, as if they were living, breathing beings. His thick, black hair fell just beneath his chin, slicked back and tucked behind his ears. She was certain she'd never seen a face as utterly perfect as his was; high cheekbones, defined jaw, a perfect pair of dark eyebrows, squared chin… He was like something out of one of her mother's romance novels, for the love of God!

Finally, taking a deep, quivering breath inward, she spoke. "Wh-wh-who a-a-are y-you?" she stammered, heart pounding with all the din of Thor's hammer in her chest.

Loki's eyes seemed distant as he answered, his voice deep and yet soft, meaningful. "I am Loki, of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose."

If Eireann weren't pressed against the wall for dear life, her knees would have given out at the sound of his voice. "No… fucking… way…" Her was voice just above a whisper, and Loki nearly had to strain to hear it. "You… _you're Loki?_" She asked, eyes bulging slightly.

Loki had to bite back laughter as he nodded ever so slightly. "I believe you have requested my presence, have you not? Tell me, mortal, _why_ have you prayed to _me?_" He asked, trying desperately not to laugh at the woman. The way she was looking at him, as if he were some hallucination, or some sort of mythical creature, was rather amusing.

Eireann looked mortified. "Wait wait wait…." Her face twisted in embarrassment and grew a deep crimson color. "You _heard my prayers?"_ Her voice grew an octave higher as she placed her palm to her forehead. It was beginning to become difficult to focus on the God before her, as her vision began to spot black. She was going to faint.

Loki nodded once more, "It was as big a shock to myself as to you, I'm sure. I was not aware that I could be prayed to." He noticed the color drain from her face, knowing that surely she was in shock. Her poor mortal mind couldn't possibly begin to comprehend the higher life form before her. He did not expect, however, for her to lose consciousness.

In an instant he was in front of her, just in time to catch her as she fell forward, shrugging lifelessly onto him. He dragged her gingerly to her bed, and laid her on her back with a sigh.

_This was a terrible idea, Loki._ He chastised himself.

* * *

Eireann's eyes fluttered open some time later. For a moment, she was relieved. _Thank God, it was only a dream!_ Turning to face her altar, she fell rather ungracefully out of bed. Facing her altar was a very much real God of Mischief. Standing up she straightened out her clothing, and quickly ran a pale hand through her tangled mane. Loki, hearing her fall from her bed, turned to face her, looking rather amused.

"Ah, she lives and breathes." He toyed, mocking the mortal openly. "I didn't mean to frighten you, though I must say _you did_ call me here."

Eireann's face grew red with anger. "Yes, but I didn't think you actually _existed!_ And furthermore, I didn't expect you to just… pop in out of the blue, yelling at me no less!" She exclaimed, rather loudly.

Loki's face grew grave. Realizing she had just _yelled_ at a God, she wrung her hands together, looking embarrassed yet again. "I'm sorry." She mumbled. "It's just… it's just that I didn't expect you to come here. I didn't think you would even hear my prayer, much less respond to it. Do you do this with every prayer you get?"

Loki's face softened as he watched the mortal nervously explain herself. He decided that he _wouldn't_ berate her for her insolence. "Actually," he paused for a moment, looking almost embarrassed himself…almost, "I have never received a prayer." His voice grew quiet at the end, as he looked back to her altar.

Eireann looked down to her feet for a moment, feeling oddly saddened by this. "Really?" She asked, inching herself closer to him slowly. "But… you're a god. Why not?"

"I should suspect not many people _pray_ for mischief." He said sardonically.

Eireann let out a short chuckle. "I suppose that's true." She chose to ignore the feeling that he was speaking down to her.

Loki turned to face her once more. "You have yet to answer my question, mortal. Why have you prayed to me? And please, this time do not collapse onto me." He added with a wry grin.

Her face grew hot as she listened to him tease her. _What an ass!_ "Well… it's funny you should ask really…" She stalled, turning around and walking to her bed to sit. It wasn't funny that he asked. In fact, she really wished he hadn't asked. But, she felt that lying to him would be a moot point. "I prayed to you, over every other God, because you seemed the least… fictitious; that, and the fact that my magic has only ever gotten me into, well, mischief. I was hoping you could, er… relate." The last word sounded childish, as if she thought it were silly a God could relate to her.

Loki tilted his head slightly, as he watched the mortal explain herself. His expression was blank, but inwardly he was actually quite moved. It pleased him that someone, _anyone_ believed in him and his abilities enough to seek his guidance. Without letting his newfound confidence get the better of him, he kept his expression blank as he opened his mouth to speak. "You wish for a God to teach you how to harness your magical abilities?" He scoffed, perhaps a bit more harshly than he meant to. "Because I have nothing _better_ to do than teach a mortal what little magic she could even comprehend?"

Eireann grew angry again, her brow knit together in fury. "Listen, I'm not keeping you here! If all you're going to do is tell me how _weak _and _mortal_ I am, then leave! I'll pray to some other God for guidance. At least now I know you exist, though _hopefully_ they're not all as cruel and crass as you're proving to be." She crossed her arms and huffed, turning to face her doorway. "Why are you even here, anyway? Did you only come to mock me?"

Loki marveled her tenacity. He had to admit it took some guts to chew out a God, as she just had. Sighing, he moved to sit on the edge of her bed. "Forgive my silver-tongue, for it often gets the better of me." He looked over to her, and pulled his brows in tight, as if he were debating something. Finally, he spoke. "I have no qualms about teaching you to harness your magic. But know this, mortal, it will not be easy. You will not enjoy it. Just remember it was _you_ who wished for this, not I."

"Really?" she gasped, grinning wickedly. "Thank you! I'm forever in your debt."

He looked over to her now excited face. Her smile made his heart skip ever slightly in his chest. He chose to ignore it. He knew full well why he had so selfishly came here. He knew it was not to mock her, or to teach her. In fact, since he had arrived here, and marveled her lithe form, it had been the only thing on his mind.

"_I need you."_ It resounded in his head, as if eternally looping. It had consumed his thoughts, if only at the back of his mind. "_To see thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, follow the more nearly day by day.." _ Loki was pulled out of his mind once again, by her voice.

"So when do we begin?"


	6. The Gatekeeper

**Phew, sorry it took so long to update! I was hit with the dreaded _writers block. -_shudders-**

**Thank you for all the reviews! Keep 'em coming!**

**We see Thor briefly this chapter, though I promise he'll return!**

**Also, just a side note, I'm not sure if you're all aware of the pronunciation of my OC's name. There are two ways to pronounce it; 1. Eh-RI-Anne. 2. Erin. Either one is fine by me, though my intent was having her name pronounced the first way. (The second way is my name... xD)**

**ANYWAY, on to the good stuff! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Thor strode quickly down the steps of the palace toward the wreckage of the Bifrost. It had been two days on Asgard since Loki had fallen into the void, and something wasn't sitting right with Thor. He would not, nor could not believe that Loki had perished. He knew his brother to be frighteningly tenacious. Thor could not simply accept the fact that Loki was gone.

As he reached the start of the long rainbow bridge, his pace quickened at the sight of The Gatekeeper. Heimdall could see a drop of dew fall from a blade of grass thousands of light-years away; surely he could locate Loki's whereabouts. As he neared the stoic gatekeeper, clad in his usual brilliant golden armor, Thor called out to greet him. "Heimdall, I request a moment of your time."

Turning slowly to face him, Heimdall nodded expressionlessly. "I am surprised it took you so long to come." He admitted, his tone flat.

Thor gave a weak smile, his usually brilliant blue eyes now fogged with fatigue. These past two days had been difficult for him, and his mother, for all of Asgard. When Odin announced to the people of Asgard that Loki was lost to them, many people mourned openly; far many more than Thor had imagined. "It has been a long few days, and I will be the first to admit I am far better suited for battle than for brain. I have to ask a favor of you, Heimdall." He said plainly.

Heimdall nodded, giving Thor a knowing look. "I know why you have come to me. I have already located Loki." Never one for mincing words, he got straight to the point.

"Excellent! So Loki lives!" Thor boomed, placing a meaty hand on Heimdall's shoulder with considerable force.

Heimdall didn't even so much as blink, rather he turned to look out at the void where the Bifrost had once been. "Yes, the Fallen Prince lives and breathes. He is currently on Midgard."

Thor's face grew grave. Pulling a hand through his blonde tresses, he heaved a sigh. "Is he, er… behaving?" he asked, turning to the golden gatekeeper, his blond brows pulled tight, a worried expression on his face.

Heimdall's amber eyes shifted, looking deep into the distant void. After a moment of observation, he turned to face Thor once more. "It would appear that way, at least for the time being."

"This is wonderful news! I must ask one more favor of you, Heimdall. Will you please keep watch of my brother, and let me know if anything changes?" Thor asked, giving Heimdall a pleading look. As if the gatekeeper would have denied him, as if he even could. Thor knew what his answer was, but still felt the need to ask.

"Of course." Was all Heimdall replied.

"Splendid. Thank you, Gatekeeper, you are a marvelous friend." He smiled. And with that Thor began his trek back to the palace, each step illuminating the bridge beneath him.

His next stop was the throne room.

* * *

"Ugh, this is too hard!" Eireann groaned, as she focused on her hands. Between her ivory digits, she had summoned a small, but brilliant blue flame. Huffing and blowing a red lock of hair out of her face, she knit her brow in frustration.

Loki scoffed, circling his way around her, watching her every move. "If you think that is difficult, mortal, than you had best give up now." His tone was playful, but weary. She certainly knew how to try his patience.

"How many times do I have to tell you, my name is Eireann? It's two syllables for Christ sake." Her gaze never left the flame between her fingers.

Loki rolled his eyes and sneered at her wryly. "Eireann." He corrected.

The last few days had been rather… _interesting_. Eireann's humble living quarters were nothing but a hovel compared to what Loki was used to residing in. His entire room was larger than her flat, however he bit his silver-tongue and never said anything about how rather _dismal_ it was. He knew not to bite the hand that fed him. Loki was stuck on Midgard for the foreseeable future, and didn't exactly have many friends to turn to.

He had no money, no means to live, and more distressingly he held no authority here; He was no longer in his element. Being one of the Princes of Asgard meant nothing to these _wretched_ Midgardians. Though, he had to admit, Eireann's cooking wasn't all _that_ bad. And the space she had provided him was more than enough to accommodate him. He supposed it was better than starving in some gutter. He found it odd that the girl, who couldn't be more than 20 Midgardian years old, was living by her own means. He truly would _never_ understand humans.

Sighing, Loki stopped in front of the girl, looking down at her expressionlessly. "I told you to concentrate on every aspect of the flame; the smell, the color, the intensity of the heat. Every miniscule detail is of the utmost importance." He drawled, placing his own hands in the formation as she and conjuring an impressive emerald flame that dwarfed hers considerably.

Eireann broke her gaze from her own flame, and frowned, throwing her hands into the air. "It's not so simple for a _mortal._" She scoffed, crossing her arms and turning away from him, and plopping her lithe from onto the sofa, her hair bouncing around her.

Loki vanished the flame and moved to sit next to her. What was that feeling in the pit of his stomach? Pity? No—not pity. He didn't _pity_ the mortal. _Sympathy. _He thought after a moment, having finally placed it; _How decidedly human._

Breathing in slowly, he turned his gaze to her. "I sometimes forget that I have had centuries more practice than you." He pinched his nose, furrowing his brow a moment, before going on. "You are progressing moderately. Perhaps we should take a break?"

Eireann hung her head, defeated. Even when he was being _nice_ he made her feel daft. Turning to look at him, she frowned. He had a way of making her feel so small and _human. _"I guess." She shrugged, and stood up, making her way into the small kitchen. "Are you hungry?" She asked, poking her head back around the corner.

To her confusion, Loki was no longer sitting on the couch. He was no longer in the room at all. Turning back around, she jumped as she came face to face with a smirking Loki. Letting out a small shriek, she clutched her chest tightly. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Loki, you're going to give me a _heart attack!_" She squealed.

Loki's brows pulled together as reached out, leaning forward, and pressing his index and middle fingers to her throat, gingerly. After a moment, he pulled back. "I do not know who Jesus, Mary, or Joseph are, but your heart rate is only slightly elevated. You shall not die this day." He gave her a wry smile, and turned to walk into the kitchen.

Eireann had frozen in place when Loki had reached out for her. Her mind went blank, save the features on the God before her. As his cool fingers pressed against her warm skin, her vision blurred slightly. She felt as if her entire body was buzzing with electricity. But as quickly as the feeling came, it was gone. Taking a shaky breath inward, she shook her head and looked ahead, to find Loki peering to her pantry, a bored expression on his face.

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?_


	7. The Allfather

**Okay _holy SHIT!_ I haven't checked my e-mail in a while, and I log in to find like DOZENS of favorites and subscriptions! You don't even _KNOW_ how much this means to me! Omg, I can't even handle this right now! Thank you all SO SO SOsososososossoooooo MUCH! :D I had to add this part in after I originally published this chapter. I'm ecstatic right now! You all made my otherwise crappy week brilliant! I am so inspired right now! Off to write more! :D**

**Okay kiddos, chapter seven coming at you from every side!**

**This chapter is a bit dialogue heavy, but I felt it was important to the development of the story. **

**Sadly, I feel like I write for _ages_ and I only ever yield a few pages. -sigh- I hope you guys don't mind. **

**Anyway, I realize I've been letting some aspects of the story slide, but I promise to do my best to remedy this.**

**Also, thank you for all the reviews! You guys really enjoy this? :D**

**I'll stop babbling now, and let you read. **

**AVENGERS, ASSEMBLE. **

**Wait... wrong movie. _ ^_^**

**Read on!**

* * *

Thor made no haste traveling to the throne room. Upon opening the doors wide, he strode to Odin briskly, a triumphant grin plastered on his face. "Father, I come with good news." He bellowed, barely able to contain his happiness as he knelt before his father, crossing a closed fist over his heart.

Odin looked upon his son wearily, his expression blank. He had awoken pre-maturely from the Odinsleep, and was feeling the effects in full force. "What is it, my son?" He asked, his tone low, thick with fatigue.

Taking a confident breath in, Thor stood and looked up at his father, beaming. "All is not lost; Loki lives!" He practically shook the room with his voice.

Odin stood there for a moment, without saying anything. His expression hadn't moved upon hearing Thor's words. His eye hadn't even so much as twitched. Taking a deep breath inward and pausing before he exhaled, Odin stepped down the short flight of stairs and stood before his son. "I know."

Thor's face played between a mixture of confusion and anger. "_What?_" He whispered, aghast. His eyes brewed thick with storm clouds, as the air grew static. "What do you _mean_ you know?" He asked, his tone careful.

Odin sighed, and placed a hand upon his son's shoulder. "I have known of Loki's whereabouts since shortly after he fell into the void." He drew a tired breath inward, and continued. "I went to Heimdall after I addressed the townspeople. I had not felt Loki's life force diminish after he fell, and was curious of his fate."

Thor's face twisted, looking perplexed. He didn't understand what his father was trying to tell him. "But, then _why?_ Why did you not tell me? Why did you not tell mother? She was neigh inconsolable when she learned of Loki's… _situation._" He said the last part through his clenched teeth, with a mixture of rage, and frustration for lack of a better word to sum up the ordeal. He shook his head in disbelief. "How could you let this farce go on?" He asked, his voice breaking as he looked to his father for some sort of reasonable explanation. How could The Allfather, _Loki's father_, let all of his people believe his youngest son was lost to them? "Why have you not tried to bring Loki back to Asgard?"

Odin let his hand drop from Thor's shoulder. He knew his son would have found out sooner or later, but he was counting on Thor's lack of forward thought to buy him more time. He had ideally wanted Loki to figure things out on his own. "Because, my son, there are some things a father can not do _for_ his child."

Thor took a step back, looking at Odin as if he were a stranger. "This is not _fair!_" He boomed, his anger rearing its ugly head. He stepped toward Odin in a huff, but stopped short as Odin gave him a warning look. Thor stepped backward, and took a breath to regain his composure. "Send me to Midgard." He demanded, giving his father a threatening look.

Odin sighed, rubbing his eye wearily. "I can not do that Thor."

"_Lies!_" He spat, his eyes storming.

"Careful with your tone boy, not only am I your father, but I am _still_ your king." He replied sternly, his expression still blank.

Thor wouldn't back down, not this time. "Then hear mine words, _father…_ Send me to Midgard so I may see to Loki's protection and safe return to Asgard. I know you have the power to do so."

Odin turned and walked back to his throne, sitting down and sighing. "Just because I _can_ do something, child, does not mean I _should._" He paused, letting his weary eye close. "There are some lessons in life that one must _truly_ learn on their own. Loki is wise, Thor. Far wiser, I should think, than you or I. He will manage to find his way back to Asgard, should he wish to return."

Thor shook his head, still not convinced. "Loki _is_ wise father, but also temperamental and impressionable. He still feels as if he has been slighted in life. His anger is far more dangerous than mine." He took a breath, pleading now. "He knows not the ways of the Midgardians, and I should think he shall find them… _unfavorable._" He took a step toward his father, willing him to listen. If only he had been born with Loki's silver-tongue, perhaps then the Allfather would be more inclined to listen to him.

"It was not too long ago, as I recall, you were in his position. However, Loki had not begged for your return. Not because he didn't wish for it, but because he understood you needed to _learn._" Odin's eye remained closed, knowing that his words were falling upon deaf ears.

Thor's vision blurred red, the rage nearly uncontrollable now. "I needed to learn because I was naïve and fool-hearted, but Loki has neither of those shortcomings, father! Send. Me. To. Midgard." His tone ominous, stressing his last sentence through his clenched jaw. "Please." He added, as an afterthought.

Odin opened his eye, piercing Thor's rage with his gaze. "No, Thor. And that is final. My word is _law!_" He bellowed, his patience worn. And with that, he closed his eye again, longing for the Odinsleep to come. "This conversation is over, my son." His tone softened. "Leave me."

Thor opened his mouth to protest, but knew it would do him no good. The Allfather had made up his mind, and there was no swaying him. For now, he simply had to grin and bear it. He turned sharply, and strode toward the doors, stomping loudly with each step. He threw wide the doors and walked out, but not before stopping to upturn a large table before he left.

Odin sighed heavily and rubbed his eye again wearily. It was not much longer now until he was lulled once again into Odinsleep.

* * *

Loki ran a hand through his hair, as he watched Eireann fuss over whatever strange Midgardian meal she was preparing. It was still strange to him, how she put such care into the way her meals were prepared. Loki had never set foot into a kitchen on Asgard, the very thought was laughable. And why would he have; as a prince, all of his meals were prepared for him by the best cooks in all of Asgard.

Returning his attention to the woman before him, he gave a faint smile. He couldn't help but notice how she kept stirring whatever was in the pot, impatience plastered over her small face. She bit her lip, and moved her hands to her hair, pulling it free from the bun she had wound it into, and readjusted it for the fifth time.

Quirking an eyebrow, as she dipped her finger into the pot, Loki watched as she put her finger to her mouth to taste her creation. Humming absentmindedly, she pulled a few more spices from the cabinet above her, adding random amounts and stirring, and tasting. This odd ritual went on for what seemed like forever, until Eireann finally gave a content smile. "It's done." She smiled, turning to him, her face aglow with satisfaction.

Loki moved closer to the stove, peering inside the pot. "What is it?" he asked, his nose slightly upturned. The thick brown stew looked anything but appetizing. He returned his gaze to her, noticing the slightly peeved look on her face.

"It's beef stew." She furrowed her brow, and placed her hands on her hips defensively.

"What _what?_" He asked, confused. He had never heard of this _beef stew._

"Beef stew." She repeated, watching as he eyed the meal she had just spent the better part of two hours preparing as if it were a bowl full of vomit. She rolled her eyes, and smiled. "I know it looks off-putting, but it tastes _divine_." She said, turning back to look at her work. It was sure to be a delicious meal, what with thick chunks of tender steak, potatoes, carrots, onions, cloves, garlic, and the smallest hint of paprika. Yes, it would be delicious indeed.

Loki looked from her, to the pot two or three times, without moving his face, before he sighed. "I suppose I'll take your word for it. But know this, I am a Prince of Asgard, and they will punish you for the rest of your natural life if this is some poisonous attempt on my life." He half mocked, half threatened with a smile. He neglected to mention that he wasn't exactly in good standing with Asgard, and that his father was a lying scoundrel. He also neglected to bring up how he had truly arrived on Midgard. These things could wait, he decided.

Eireann smiled coyly, before she reached into the cupboard to grab two bowls. "I know, I know, Prince of Asgard, blah blah blah. You've told me at _least_ a hundred times already." She moved back to the stove, and took the cover off the pot after it had settled for a few moments. Stirring it with a ladle, she dipped the utensil in and scooped out a generous helping for Loki, and herself. "In fact," she turned handing him his bowl, and motioning him to join her at her small kitchen table; she pulled her brow in tight, and handed him a spoon before continuing, "that is about _all_ you've told me since you got here." She finished, dipping her spoon in and blowing on it.

Loki looked down at his bowl, and back up to Eireann, mimicking her strange actions. The food in Asgard was never too hot, nor too cold. He deduced that she was blowing on her spoon to cool the slop. He hesitated a moment, both with putting the brown mixture into his mouth, and continuing the conversation.

"So, tell me Loki, why did you _really _come here?" Eireann blew on her spoon once more before shoving the utensil in her mouth. As soon as she did, she regretted it. The flavor was perfect, so delicious it made her mouth water, but the stew was _hot, sooo hot_. Hotter than the surface of the sun, she decided. Her eyes grew wide as she flew up from her seat and spat it into the sink, panting.

Loki was before her in a split second, her face in his hands. "Are you alright?" He asked before he could even think, his eyes flashing with worry and concern. His voice was soft, but urgent.

Eireann's eyes glazed over at his touch, as her breath hitched in her throat. Her mouth stung, and she was certain a layer of skin had burnt off of the roof of her mouth, yet she was only vaguely are of the pain. His soft skin upon her face had lulled the pain away, like a siren song to lost sailors. Tilting her head back, and gingerly opening her mouth, he surveyed the damage. After muttering a few words foreign to Eireann's ears, her pain ceased completely. She had barely been aware of the green wisps of light that had been dancing around his fingers as he spoke.

Their green eyes met and held for a few long moments, and then broke. They stood there, awkwardly close, for a few more moments, before they silently sat back down at the table. Neither of them said a word for a while, they simply stared hazily into their bowls. Finally, Loki broke the silence. "Are you certain this is fit for consumption?" He asked, his lips upturned slightly at the corners.

Rolling her eyes, Eireann smiled, grateful to have had the tension broken. "Yes, I am certain." She picked up her spoon, and submerged it once again in the now considerably cooler stew. Lifting it up to her mouth, and blowing out of precaution, she took another bite. This time, she smiled contently. Swallowing she motioned for him to do the same.

Loki looked down at his bowl, and let out a soft sigh. Picking up his spoon, he eyed the meal before him once more, and decided that perhaps he _wouldn't_ perish at the hands of his student. Licking his lips slowly, he placed the spoon inside his mouth. It took a moment for the flavor to register, but when it did he closed his eyes and relished in it. It was decidedly the most _flavorful_ concoction he'd ever tasted. He opened his eyes, and looked over to Eireann, who had been nearly _dripping_ with anticipation. He had to swallow a laugh at the sight of it.

Loki lifted his spoon and gave a wicked grin. "It is indeed, _divine._"

Eireann breathe a sight of relief and took another generous bite of her own stew. "It's even better when the cyanide kicks in." She said plainly, biting her cheek to not laugh.

Loki's face fell slightly, tilting his head to the side.

Eireann burst into a fit of manic laughter. "Loki, I'm _kidding._" She squealed, as she took another bite.

Loki's face looked relieved. "I thought so, but I'm afraid I'm rubbing off on you. Your lies are becoming decidedly more believable." He said, as he took another bite of the savory stew.

"Which reminds me," she said with a sly grin. "You've yet to answer my question."

Loki sighed once more, as he took another bite, deciding he rather enjoyed this _beef stew._ "I had hoped you had forgotten." He said, as he fidgeted with something underneath the collar of his shirt.

"I never forget the things I want to know." Eireann smiled, glancing to his fidgeting hand, only to have her gaze pulled up again as he cleared his throat a bit _too_ loudly.

"I should have suspected as much." He grinned as he took another bite, ignoring her questioning looks, and her question.

Eireann sighed. She would let it go, for now.

_What was he playing with underneath his shirt?_


	8. To See Thee More Clearly

**Guys... I can't feel my face... I'm so terribly tired...**

**BUT HEY, CHAPTER EIGHT! HERE WE GO!**

**If this chapter has any errors in plot, grammar, spelling, or coherence, blame my wicked need for sleep.**

**For real-real though, I'm going to go pass dafaque out.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"That's it, Eireann, you've got it! Now focus."

Loki watched as Eireann held her blue flame between her fingers. She had managed to get the flame to grow considerably, now engulfing both of her hands. Eireann grimaced as she gnawed absentmindedly on her lip. The dull heat from the flame was making her rather uncomfortable.

"I'm trying." She protested, never taking her eyes off of her hands.

Loki moved to stand in front of her, back a few feet. After making sure she was truly concentrating on the flame, he summoned his own. "Now, throw it to me."

Eireann looked up to him, her expression peppered with confusion. "What?"

"Throw it to me." He repeated, his tone plain.

"No, no, I heard you the first time." She shook her head, and continued. "How the hell am I supposed to _throw_ my flame at you." She asked, her brow raised.

Loki chucked softly. "Not _at_ me. That would be rude. _To_ me."

"Yeah, still not helping." Her flame was beginning to slowly dwindle as she lost her focus on it.

"Concentrate, or your flame will go out, and I really don't feel like waiting another half an hour for you to muster up a new one. Now, as for your query, it is simple. Just throw it." Loki flashed a smile, as he watched her face grow red with frustration.

"Oh, whatever." She sighed, shifting her body slightly. She didn't even understand how that was supposed to work. How could she just lob a fireball his way as if it were a football? Sighing she pushed her hands forward attempting to move the flame. To her surprise, the flame soared through the air. She watched as he caught it with one hand, and then simultaneously tossed his to her.

Her eyes widened as she readied her hands to catch his green flame. The last thing she needed was her apartment to burn down, but he could have at least given her a little warning. Eireann caught his flame easily. She would have been excited about this, had her mind been present.

However, as soon as his flame made contact with her skin, her awareness had been pulled worlds away into a memory.

* * *

The world around her was barren, frigid. Everything as far as the eye could see was covered in ice. No, not covered—it was ice. Turning in a circle, she scanned the area around her. _Where the hell am I? _She continued to look around, realizing that even though everything was covered in ice, it wasn't cold. In fact, her temperature hadn't changed at all. Eireann could still feel the sweat beading on her forehead from concentrating on maintaining her flame.

A crunching sound caught her attention in the distance. It was then, she noticed Loki a short walk away from her. _What the hell is he wearing? _It was like a cross between garish medieval armor, and steam punk. She smirked to herself, noticing he once again adorned in green. _Must be his favorite,_ she thought absentmindedly. Eireann was brought back to attention when a gargantuan blue beast charged straight for Loki.

"Loki!" She had gone to call out to him, but then realized she had no voice. "_LOKI_!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, but still nothing. No sound escaped her lips. Looking over in horror, she cried out when the beast was upon him.

But to her surprise, the giant made of frost didn't overpower Loki. In fact, once the beast grabbed Loki by the arm, he had shoved a dagger into its chest, causing the giant to cry out and crumble to the ground.

Eireann ran to him, trying desperately to get his attention. Once she was by his side she reached out to grab his wounded arm, but stopped short and took a sharp breath inward. His arm wasn't broken, nor was it cut. His arm was totally unscathed, save the fact that it was blue. Rather, his _skin_ was blue.

It wasn't his blue skin that bothered her, however the expression on Loki's face. He looked confused, and uneasy. She concluded that something like this had never happened to him before. "Loki?" She whispered, her voice small, worried.

Eireann reached out for him, but before her skin could graze his arm, the world around her disintegrated into nothingness.

* * *

"Eireann?" Loki had sensed something was wrong when she caught his flame. Her expression went blank, her eyes empty. Vanishing both her flame and his, he started toward her. Before he could reach her however, knees gave out and her body shrugged lifelessly to the floor.

Green eyes wide, Loki ran to her side, pulling her form onto his lap. He cradled her head in his left hand, and adjusted her body to locate her pulse with his right. Upon checking her heart rate, he frowned. Everything was normal, save the fact that she was literally asleep with her eyes wide open. Loki didn't have much time to think before he jumped at the sound of voice.

"Loki!" She screamed, her voice sounding frightened. Loki's heart quickened at the sound. _What the hell is going on?_ His frustration grew considerably upon hearing his name screamed again, considerably louder this time.

"_LOKI_!" Loki pulled her body closer to him, and made an attempt to wake her up.

"Eireann, shhh, everything is alright." Loki pled, prodding her gently. No response. He shook her gently. Nothing.

"Please, _please_ wake up." He begged now, willing the girl out of whatever vivid nightmare was ensnaring her. It didn't help matters that her eyes were wide open, looking right up at him, it only made his chest twist in a way he hadn't thought possible. He was brought out of the thought of the pain in his chest upon realizing the woman he held in his arms was shivering. A small shiver at first, then another, followed promptly by many more violent shivers. The teeth in her mouth began to hammer together, and Loki was certain he could see her breath.

"Eireann? Eireann!" He bellowed, holding her body closer to her. He frowned when he realized he had little to no warmth to provide her.

"Loki?" She whispered, her tone sounding concerned.

"Yes? Yes! I'm here!" What hadn't occurred to him was the fact that she was not there, not really. It hadn't even occurred to him that she was not in a dream, but a memory; one of his own in fact. He perhaps would have figured this out, but his mind was too preoccupied, waiting for her response. No response came. Loki began to panic when her breathing slowed.

"No, no no…" His eyes widened again, as he looked down to her shivering form. "NO, you are going to wake up. What is wrong? What is wrong? TELL ME!" He bellowed, shaking her violently now, nearly sobbing.

He stopped panicking when he realized that her body had stilled its shivering, and her temperature returned to normal. He watched as the life returned to her eyes, forgetting momentarily that he was currently hugging her as close as possible to his torso.

"Loki?" She asked, this time fully aware of where she was. She had returned to her body, though was very confused as to why Loki was clinging to her as if she were a child's toy.

She sat up, still very much on his lap, and groaned, holding her head in her hands. "Ugh I feel like I just went ten rounds with a boxing kangaroo."

Loki hadn't even bothered to ask her what the hell a _boxing kangaroo_ was, he simply lifted her from his lap, and placed her on the couch. He moved to sit next to her, and looked her over. "You don't seem to be hurt." He said, covering the fact that he was still shaking from fear exceptionally well.

Why had he reacted so dramatically to the situation? It wasn't as if he should actually care for his student. That would be so… so _Thor._ Loki didn't even particularly like mortals. In fact, everything about Midgardians made his skin crawl, or so he thought. They were horrid little creatures, which cared little for their planet, and even less for one another. So why was this small, mortal Midgardian woman having such a _pathetic_ impact on him?

Loki scolded himself inwardly, not noticing that Eireann was giving his left arm a rather peculiar look.

"So, does your arm turn blue often?" Eireann had finally mustered up the courage to ask him a short while later. They sat in her small living room, Loki facing away from her, immersed in some book she had lying around. It had been too long since he sat down to enjoy good literature, but he was having no luck. The book he was reading was just _dreadful._ The plot was littered with holes, the characters were one-sided, and laughably predictable, and the language was laymen's at best.

Loki whipped around to look at his arm, and then back to her. "_What?_"

"Your arm. It was blue in the memory you sent me to. Which reminds me, give me a little warning next time, huh?" She gave a faint smile, and continued. "It scared the shit out of me, actually. Where the hell were you? Also why are you reading _Twilight?_" She giggled.

Loki blinked, his expression slightly vexed. "I did not send you into a memory. Not intentionally anyway. I am not even certain I know _how_ to do that." He paused for a moment, and looked away from her, fidgeting once again with something just under his collar. "But, judging by the way your body reacted to the memory, and the way you kept calling out to me in fear, and you are asking about my _arm_ being blue, I am fairly certain I know _precisely _the memory you are talking about."

He looked down the hardcover in his hands and gave a small sigh. "As for _this_," he said, igniting the book in green flames and tossing it out the open window, "I have no earthly idea."

Eireann's face fell. "Did you really have to light it on _fire?_"

Loki nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes I did."

Eireann shook her head and chuckled softly. "Now, as for you turning into the cookie monster when that giant touched you…"

"The cookie monst—nevermind." He shook his head, deciding he didn't want to know what the cookie monster was. He took a breath in and prepared himself for the discussion that was about to take place.

As he sat up straighter in his chair, he couldn't help but notice the words resounding lyrically in his head. "_To see thee more clearly—"_ Eireann's prayer danced around, as if taunting him.

"So…?" Eireann prodded impatiently, having watching Loki lose focus and gaze into nothingness for a good minute.

"Ah yes, cookie monster." He said, snapping out of it. "Well, it's a rather long story. Are you certain you'd like to hear it?" Loki asked, a small grin playing at the corners of his lips.

"Of course." She grinned back, leaning in closer.

Loki folded his long pale hands into his lap and thought for a moment. Where to start? There was so much to the story, he wondered if she could hear it all given her mortal lifespan. He drew a breath inward and began.

"The creature you saw in my memory is known as a Jotun; A frost giant. They hail from the realm known as Jotunheim." Loki hadn't realized his jaw was clenching as he spoke of the Jotun. "And I," He paused looking away. "Well I am one of them."

Eireann quirked an eyebrow upon hearing his words; he certainly didn't _look_ like a frost giant.

Loki, having understood her perplexed look, answered her unspoken question. "My fath—_Odin,_" He corrected, "stole me away from Jotenheim as a child, after waging war with the Jotun." His eyes grew dark.

Sensing Loki wasn't exactly enjoying this story, Eireann interjected. "Loki, we don't have to talk about this…"

"No," Loki stopped her. "You have to right to understand your teacher."

Loki took a breath and poised himself for the remainder of his story.

_Why am I even telling her any of this?_

"Now, where was I?" He asked, looking over to her.

"Yodenham?" She asked, butchering the pronunciation miserably.

Loki chuckled lightly. "Ah, yes. Jotunheim..."


	9. The Queen's Rebuke

**-pokes- _**

**OH HAI DER GUISE!**

**Okay so, I know it's not a very long one, but I'm just pumped to have something to publish for y'all! I just want to extend a HUGE MASSIVE GI-FUCKING-GANTIC apology for taking so long! I'm at my parents house for the night, and ZOMG THEYZ HAZ INTERNETZ! So I was like "dude if I don't write something TONIGHT I'm going to hate myself for it." **

**Chapter Nine FINALLY arrives with one _SERIOUSLY_ pissed off queen.**

**I hope you all enjoy, and I will have another chapter up ASAP!**

* * *

Chapter Nine

The Queen's Rebuke

Eireann waited impatiently for Loki to continue speaking. He had sat there for what felt like ages with a hesitant look on his face, as if he was unsure of how to begin. "Loki, if you don't want to tell be about Yotunham, or Judenhime or whatever the hell that place is called you don't have to, but make up my mind before I die of old age over here!" Her tone was thick with impatience.

Loki's green eyes met her own, his brows furrowing as if to scold her. Heaving a sigh inward, he nodded. "Alright, alright." He cleared his voice and sat up taller in his seat, preparing to explain to her exactly what he was, and how he had become a Prince of Asgard. "I was not always Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief." He chose to leave out the other half of his title, as he rather disliked being known as the God of Lies. "I was born Loki Laufeyson, Prince of Jotenheim, God of... well who knows really, adoption or something?" He chuckled quietly under his breath, knowing she wouldn't fully understand the bitterness behind it all. "Odin, do you know of Odin?" He paused looking over to her.

"Kind of, I think. He's like Zeus right, Father of the Gods?" She nodded, fairly sure she was correct in her assumption.

Loki tilted his head, vexed. "Zeus?"

"You don't know Zeus?" She asked, amused. "Don't all you Gods like, I don't know, hang out and shoot pool or something."

Loki chuckled and shook his head. "Not personally, no, but if he's anything like Odin, I'd like to keep it that way." Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he continued. "Where was I? Ah yes, Odin. Odin is the Allfather, do you understand? He is, as you said, Father of the Gods. He is the father of everything, or so it goes." He sneered slightly, and continued. "Aeons ago, far more years than you will ever see in your mortal life, The Asgardians and the people of Jotunheim were at war. Odin traveled to Jotunheim and wreaked havoc upon it, destroying everything in sight, killing any Jotun who crossed his path." Loki's voice was trembling now, his eyes wide with anger. He hadn't noticed the way Eireann was looking at him, as if she'd never seen him before.

"As Odin made to take his leave of Jotenheim, he came upon a temple. I suppose he would have kept going, had he not heard the faint wailing of an infant just inside the temple door. As he came upon this infant, he realized that it was the son of Laufey, King of Jotunheim, heir to the throne." Loki's emotions began to betray his normally cool exterior, a mixture of rage and great sadness playing on his face. He couldn't even make bring himself to glance in Eireann's direction, he merely gazed into the distance as he pressed on.

"Odin knew that if Laufey was without an heir to the throne, and perished, all of Jotunheim would turn to chaos. He wouldn't have to lift a finger against the Jotun, they'd merely tear themselves apart, hungry for power. He also knew that though cold of heart, the Jotun were not without love. They would mourn the loss of their prince. As Odin made to take the child, and rid it of its wretched existence, but upon touching the infant, it's blue skin and red eyes changed to that of a more Asgardian appearance. It's skin warmed into a pale tan color, it's eyes a brilliant green. Instinctual magic." Loki blinked back the emotion manifesting itself on his face, and returned to his normal cool demeanor. "Odin took mercy upon the child, if you can call it that, and spared it's life. However, instead of leaving the boy where he had found him, he stole him away for Jotunheim, and raised him as his own, all the while never telling the boy of his true heritage."

Eireann didn't know what to make of the information being given to her. Furthermore she didn't know what to make of Loki at the moment. She knew he was angry, and perhaps even sad, but as if nothing had even bothered him it all, there he sat looking calm as ever. "That child was you, wasn't it?" She asked quietly, her voice small.

Turning to look upon her, Loki smiled faintly. "Yes."

* * *

Thor strode into his mother's chambers, not bothering to knock before entering. He knew Frigga would be there, she hadn't left her room since learning of Loki's fall from Asgard. Perhaps if he couldn't reason with Odin, Frigga could. Moving to sit next to his mother, sitting motionlessly in the corner, staring into space. Taking her limp hands into his, he looked her over, blue eyes nearly spilling over with tears. It pained Thor greatly to see his mother in this condition, so distraught, so melancholy, so lifeless. "Mother?" He asked gently, his eyes wracked with worry. Frigga made no motion to look toward him, no gesture that he was even in the room, save one solitary nearly inaudible grunt, as if to say "_What_?"

"Mother please look at me, as I come with good news." Thor moved to touch her face gently as if to will her to look at him.

Gracefully, in one languid, fluid motion, The Queen turned to look upon her eldest son. Her eyes were red from crying, her skin lackluster and pale from many sleepless nights, she heaved a defeated sigh. "Yes my son?" She asked weakly, as if she highly doubted the news Thor brought was of any significance to anything.

Thor paused dramatically, and took a shaky breath inward, preparing to tell his mother of Loki's fate. "Please, do not excite yourself too much with what I am about to divulge to you, because there is a downside, however I felt it best you should know." He paused waiting for her to speak.

Frigga never blinked, never moved, never even bothered to wipe the tears spilling freely from her eyes. She remained silent, her blue eyes fogged over with grief. Thor knew full well that though he was her eldest son, her _only_ son by blood, that she favored Loki wholeheartedly. However, unlike Loki, the favor of one parent over the other had never bothered Thor. He knew his mother loved him dearly, but understood why Frigga had grown so affectionate toward Loki. Odin had always clearly favored Thor over his brother, but Frigga saw how special Loki truly was. She had grown attached to him the second Odin laid him in her arms, for in that very moment an inseparable bond had been forged between them. Blood or not, a mother never loses her instinct to mother.

Thor gingerly wiped the tears from Frigga's face in vain, for more spilled over each second. Returning his hand to hers, he gave a small smile. "Loki is alive."

With that Frigga's face twisted in a mixture of disbelief and joy? "W-what?" She asked, as some of the life began to return to her face. "Is this some trick? Please Thor, tell me this is not your idea of humor, or metaphor, or what have you!"

Thor shook his head as his smile widened. "Tricks were never _my_forte, mother." He chuckled softly, and continued. "I do not jest, Loki is alive." Thor decided to let his mother have her moment of joy before he told her the rest of the news he had come to give her. It warmed his heart to see the color return to her face, her eyes alive again, so much so it pained him to have to continue. "But mother, there is more. Loki is on Midgard."

With that, Frigga's face fell, worry etching over her. "Midgard?" Her voice cracked, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Does your father know?"

Thor's face grew cold. "He knows, and has known for some time." Anger lapped at him like fire, burning in the pit of his stomach and moving up his throat like bile. "Father refuses to do anything about the situation, for he believes that Loki must _learn his lesson_." He spat.

Frigga shook for a moment, with anger. She had known her husband to be as stubborn as he was wise, but this was going too far. She allowed Odin to teach Thor his lesson, for Thor had needed to learn that his arrogance would be his undoing, but Loki didn't deserve this travesty.

Thor was quite shaken himself, having never seen his mother show anger. It looked foriegn on her, wrong. He waited a moment before he spoke again. "He will not let me interfere mother, but I am going to have to go over his head. Loki will never make it on Midgard, I am surprised he has even survived this far!"

Frigga shook her head, no longer were tears flowing from her eyes. "No, no. I have already dealt with the pain of losing one son, I shan't have you banished as well. Give me time, let me speak with your father. Perhaps I can persuade him, and if that does nothing to sway him, then you have my permission as Queen of Asgard to return to Midgard. Somehow, I know you can find a way to return, a way to save your brother. I know it, I just know it." Frigga's voice was stern, and confident. It pleased Thor greatly to see his mother so sure of herself, and frightened him greatly to see the look of indignation and fury carved into the curves of her face. "I will have my son back, come Hel or high water, or _Ragnarok itself_, I _will_ see to my Loki's return." She seethed, hell-fire burning in her eyes. And with that, she stood and stormed out of her chambers, heading straight for the throne room.


	10. Mind Your Mind

**Hey, so uh... sorry about being lame and not having a computer? **

**I've not forgotten about you, my lovely ones!**

**I will write more soon. I've got wonderful ideas for Loki/Eireann!**

**Don't lose faith in me!**

**3 Erin**

* * *

Chapter 10

Mind Your Mind

Loki sat alone, fiddling with the pendant around his neck, staring into the distance. His mind whirred and buzzed, the silence screaming in his ears. Three days had passed since Loki spoke of Odin to Eireann, yet his thoughts were fixated on him. His father, and Thor, and all of Asgard, were running through his head at warp speed. Maybe he had been wrong, this time. Maybe he had gone too far. Was his mad scramble for power really what he had been seeking? Or was it something else entirely? Then, suddenly, as if changing the dial on a radio, his thoughts were no longer his own. He could no longer hear his inner voice, or see the visions of Asgard dancing through his mind. This mind, this strange new place, was something vastly different from his own. If his mind had been the stars on a summer's night, this mind was the whole of space. This place he had been so suddenly transferred to was breathtaking. Loki could see, smell, touch, taste, feel everything in this place, as if it were tangible. Somewhere, in the distance of this place, he heard a voice. A song, more specifically. Amongst the trees, and fields, and hills of this paradise, danced a song, weaving in and out of trees, soaring over flowers, bounding through rivers of conciousness.

As suddenly as this strange new place appeared in his mind, it vanished. The dial had switched back to his own station. The trees withered, the flowers wilted, the rivers ran dry. His own dismal mind remained. Devoid, desolate, barren. The sensation of being ripped from the paradise of one mind, to the pestilence of his own was so overwhelming, that Loki nearly wretched upon the carpet. The whole left in the pit of his stomach churned, as he gripped the arm of the chair he had been inhabiting. Sitting up, he caught his breath, his hands shakily combing through his hair. Just as he regained his composure, he heard the distant squeak of the door open and close. Loki listened, as he heard the familiar shuffle of Eireann's feet against the carpet, the rustle of her keys as they hit the table, the crinkling of plastic bags as she brought groceries to the kitchen. These things had become routine, almost like clockwork. Eireann would leave for "work," as the Midgardian put it, be gone for hours at a time, then return with some sort of food or beverage for dinner. _"I'm human, Loki. I have bills to pay, I can't just sit around the house practicing magic all day! A girl has to work!"_ He recalled her saying, when he inquired what she did when she left all day. As he stood, rounding the corner to the kitchen, he paused for a moment to listen to Eireann humming. The tune she had been sounding under her breath was the same one he'd heard just moments before, in the mind that was not his own.

Loki tilted his head in confusion, as Eireann turned to him with a rather peeved look upon his face. "You!" She exclaimed, setting her grocery bag on the floor and pointing her finger toward his direction. "I know you're a God and all, but you can't just go snooping around in a girl's thoughts! It's rude, and rather invasive." She huffed, poking her finger into his chest.

For a moment, Loki was speechless. "I-" he started, then stopped short, twisting his face in frustration. "I should say the same for you, _mortal._" He turned and walked past her, to the contraption she called the sink. Grabbing a cup from the cupboard, he poured a glass of water and took a rather large swill.

Eireann crossed her arms over her chest, a look of amusement smeared on her face. "You really think I know how to invade someone's thoughts like that? I can hardly keep my own mind straight, I don't need you poking around in it." The amusement drained from her face, when she realized Loki looked rather distressed. "What's wrong, Loki?" She asked, uncrossing her arms and taking a step toward him.

"Gifted as I am, I'm not particularly proficient in the art of telepathy." He frowned, taking another sip of water. When the fluid was drained from the cup, he placed it in the sink, and turned to face her. "I'm not entirely sure what happened, but I can assure you I did not seek your mind. If anything, it sought mine."

"That makes almost as much sense as a God showing up in your room in the middle of the night, and promising to help you with your magic after you made a desperate prayer to him." She sighed, turning and making her way into the living room. Ploping down on the couch, she put her head in her hands and sighed.

Loki followed suit, returning to the chair he had previously inhabited. "One thing you must understand about magic, Eireann, is that it all too often does not make any sense at all." He smiled, trying to cheer the girl up. When she did not return his smile, his heart sank slightly.

The now familiar pull at his chest sent a jolt of ache up toward his brain, then a flash of anger. Why was this creature, this mortal Midgardian girl becoming so important to him? Since when did Loki, rightful king of Asgard, God of Mischief and Lies, feel small in comparison to a mortal woman? Why? What could possibly be so special about her? Then, as if his question was answered, he felt the cold metal around his chest, just under his shirt. As he reached for the little jade amulate, he remembered the voice he had heard whilst floating in the nothingness of space. He remembered the voice that saved his mind from ripping itself apart. When his long pale fingers grazed the cold silver of the chain, he could hear the prayer that resounded in his mind, like a mantra. Three words stuck out most in his mind, searing on his lips like a white hot poker, threatening to spill over. Three words that kept him alive when he'd wanted nothing more than to perish. _"I need you."_

"What?" Eireann asked, looking up at Loki, perplexed.

Loki turned to face her, not realizing he had said these words aloud. He blinked. "Hmm?"

"You just said..." She paused, her face flushing.

Loki then realized what he'd done. The mistake he had made. Seeing her face rush with blood, hearing her heart speed up, he knew then that there was no going back. Scrambling inwardly for a desperate cover, he cleared his throat and shook his head. "I need you to focus on your magic." He said cooly, playing it off as if he'd simply lost his train of thought mid-sentence. "I am not simply going to sit here forever, waiting for you to have time to train with me. If you are interested in your magical growth, then tomorrow we will train twice as long as usual." He stood, and walked to the stairs. "Now, as for myself, I shall retire for the evening."

And with that, he was alone, in the safety of his room, where no mortal could melt his icy heart.


	11. Bound

**SDHBFLSHDBFSHDF! I HAVE A COMPUTER NOW!**

**I am so very terribly sorry for the UNACCEPTABLY long break in chapters! **

**But my friends, let me assure you I have BIG HUUUUGE plans for this tale of mine!**

**I hope you enjoy it! :D**

**:*) Kisses and love! [erin]**

* * *

Loki awoke rather abruptly to the sound of shattering glass, his eyes flashing open like lightning. Somewhat dazed, it took him a moment to register where exactly he was. The unfamiliar surroundings took a moment to click inside his head. The tacky yellow curtains, the shaggy brown rug, old wooden bookcase, peeling floral wallpaper, none of this things were his own.

He glanced down at himself, or rather, at how ridiculous he looked on the tiny Midgardian bed he had been sleeping on. The mattress was at least a foot shorter than he was tall, and not nearly wide enough for his liking.

Swinging his legs around, Loki stood from the bed, and made his way to the door. His hand had barely reached the cool metal of the knob, when he heard a shriek of terror from downstairs. Realizing that it had been Eireann doing the screaming, Loki decided to take a short cut.

Time began to shift, becoming unstable for a moment, as if it were a machine that could be broken and fixed, switched on and off, or manipulated.

The world, and everything around him began to bend in an odd sort of manner, as if he were looking through a fish eye lens. Colors ran together, making everything a sickly taupe hue. He focused on Eireann, trying to find her mind in the chaos around him. It was exceptionally difficult for him to do this, considering time had, for all intents and purposes, stopped for the moment.

Every hair on his body seemingly stood at attention. The mess of grey distortion around him had faded into nothing. He found himself inside a wrinkle of time, trying desperately to find the other end of this time wound he had created. Ripping a hole in time is simple enough, finding your damned way out of it is a whole different cup of tea. Loki opened his mouth to call out to Eireann, but stopped short, abruptly closing it. "Idiot." he thought to himself. "There is no sound in the in-between."

"Loki!" He heard his name somewhere in the distance of the void. Focusing entirely on that voice, Loki bounded toward it, bursting out of the time wound in a mad scramble, and collapsing onto the living-room floor of Eireann's flat. Not the most graceful entrance, he had to admit.

Standing quickly, disoriented by the "short cut" he had made, Loki took a moment to gather his bearings before turned his attention to Eireann. She was on her knees near a pile of broken glass, blood trickling down her hand. "Eireann! Is everything alright?" He asked, rushing to her side to kneel beside her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Jesus!" Eireann jumped, holding her clean hand over her mouth in shock. "Loki, what the hell have I told you about popping out of nowhere like that?!" She asked incredulously, whacking his arm.

Loki blinked lazily, realizing she was in no real danger. As he stood, he outstretched his hand and offered it to her. "I thought you were in danger." He scoffed, pulling her up from the ground after she placed her hand in his. Loki tried his best to ignore the electric pulse that ran up and down his spine anytime his skin touched hers. "I am fairly certain they heard that battle cry in Valhalla." He snickered, crossing his arms over his chest. "What was the matter anyway? Did they postpone another episode of that show you watch... what was it called?" He thought for a moment... "Physician Unknown?"

Eireann rolled her eyes. "Doctor Who," she corrected "and no, you jackass." Her green eyes turned stormy. "I saw a spider and it startled me, so I threw my drink at it." Her cheeks flushed crimson as she walked into her kitchen.

Loki stood there dumbfounded for a moment, resisting the urge to laugh. "A _spider?_" The urge to laugh was not being quelled successfully. "You screamed bloody murder and ruined your glassware because you saw a _spider_?" He just couldn't help it, he had to laugh. Deep roaring laughter emitted from his core, and tears nearly threatened to spill over onto his cheeks. "That is... the most ridiculous thing... I have ever heard... in my entire life!" He said between long gasping breaths.

Eireann rolled her eyes as she turned on the warm water, placing her hand under the sink washing away the blood. "Oh HA HA." She mock laughed. "I'm glad you find it so funny." She brooded. "If you didn't notice, I'm practically bleeding out over here, could you at least grab me a bandage?"

Loki wiped the moisture from his eyes and cleared his throat, small giggles still slipping through his mouth. "I would my dear student, but I am unaware of their location." He said through tiny bouts of laughter. "However, you do not require a bandage." Loki moved to her side, and turned off the tap. "May I?" He asked holding his hand out to hers.

Eireann hesitated a moment before relinquishing her wounded palm to him. Loki gently took her hand, taking care not to jostle it around too much. Cupping her hand in his left palm, he gingerly touched the gash assessing how deep the cut was.

Hissing in pain, she punched his arm. "God damn it all! Why would you do that?" She asked, tears forming in her eyes.

"Shhhhh shh..." He cooed. Whispy green tendrils of magic began to swirl from his fingertips, dancing their way around her hand. A warm sensation radiated through her entire body, as if she had just stepped into the sunlight after a long night. Suddenly the pain in Eireann's hand began to throb dully, ebbing away. Her eyes widened as she watched the cut begin to heal, blood clotting and skin healing at an unnatural pace. After a moment her hand was healed completely.

Eireann looked up at Loki, his green eyes closed in concentration. For a moment she was deadly still, the din of her heartbeat growing to a cacophony. She couldn't help but notice how peaceful he looked at that moment, and handsome of course. Her heart felt as if it would burst at any second, and her knees began to tremble as tiny butterflies whipped up a hurricane in her stomach. She glanced down to their hands, still very much in contact. Her own blue magic had begun to dance around his own, twirling and mixing with each other in a turquoise hue.

Loki's eyes were open now, and focused on their hands. He watched the magic dance a blue-green tango, a small smile fixed on his lips. Loki knew what this strange phenomenon meant, for he had read about it once a long time ago in one of his many studies at the vast Asgardian library.

Normally magic from two separate parties would repel each other, like two positive charges. They would bounce away, never connecting. However once, every so often, magic had been known to mix, in very rare occasions, if and only if the two were tied by some sort of connection on a higher level.

Loki's heart fluttered slightly, a feeling he had not felt since he was young. His eyes found hers, and for a moment they were both silent. In that moment he knew that she was his, and he was hers. Though they were not likely to act upon it any time soon, it was inevitably and undoubtedly true. They were both magically and cosmically bound to each other. As far as the universe and all that was in it was concerned, they were one.


	12. Sweet Dreams

**Hello my loves! ^.^**

**This is a short chapter, I know. It's basically a filler. :D**

**I needed to get back to Asgard to let everyone know how Frigga was doing with Odin. _**

**Now before ya'll freak out, Loki isn't in this chapter... BUT FEAR NOT!**

**He and Eireann shall return next chapter! And maybe...**

**JUST MAYBE...**

**They'll kiss. ;)**

**MAYBE. xD**

**Until then, I love you guys and thank you so much for reading! *muah!***

**-Erin**

* * *

"I said no, Frigga. No. And that is final." Odin said with weary eyes and a tongue thick with fatigue. "He is not in any harm, he is not causing trouble as of yet. There is no _reason_ for us to retrieve him and return him here." Frigga had tried unsuccessfully for two days to sway Odin's decision to leave Loki on Midguard. She had tried every threat, trick, and ploy she could think of, all shut down by The Allfather. There was nothing she could do to change his mind, her cards were on the table and she had no ace up her sleeve. Frigga knew he would not budge on the matter, but she also knew that Odin would soon slumber. She was not one to deceive or beguile her husband, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Frigga heaved a sigh, deciding to give it one last go before she resorted to going behind his back entirely. "Listen to me Odin, and please _hear_ my words..." she took a breath, placing her hand on his shoulder, eyes pleading. "Allow Thor to retrieve Loki from Midguard. Nothing good can come from him being there!" Odin opened his mouth to protest, but was cut short.

"Loki is a delicate creäture, with a volatile temper and a nasty habit of getting off on the wrong foot." she took a breath and thought a moment before she continued, crossing her arms about her chest. "What if something terrible happens, Odin? What if some one or something comes along and corrupts Loki? You know how impressionable he is. He wants nothing more than to belong somewhere, he has wanted it since childhood." she hesitated a moment before continuing. "You made him this way, Odin. Your actions and interactions have made Loki into what he is. You know this don't you?" Frigga asked coldly, her eyes afire. She had never spoken out to Odin, not like that.

Odin's face was unreadable for a moment, flashing somewhere between anger and hurt. Then, after a moment, he nodded. He was silent for a moment before spoke. "I know." he said softly, nearly defeated. "I realize now that it is too late, that I should have treated Loki differently. I should have been a better father. But Frigga, you know that I love Loki dearly. No more and no less than I love Thor." His eye began to droop lazily, the siren song of sleep calling for him, like a sailor lost at sea.

Frigga's eyes were cold, unmoved by his confession. "I know you love Loki, but does he?" she asked harshly. "I can not recall a single time, not once, hearing you admit your love of our son." she spat.

"Enough Frigga! Enough!" he boomed, rising quickly. "I realize my mistakes as a father. I see them clearly, but the past is gone and I can not change what has been. If I could go back and fix every mistake I have made, I would. Sadly I do not have the power to do so. I do, however, have the power to change the future. Loki will remain on Midguard until he learns whatever lessons he was meant to." he took a breath, continuing, "And do not think that you can deceive me. I realize the moment I fall into slumber you will do everything in your power to return him. But have _you_ ever considered that perhaps he does not _want_ to return? Have you ever considered that he might have reason to linger in the realm of Midgard? Do you not think he has the ability to return of his own volition? Loki is no longer a child, he is capable of doing things on his own. He does not need his mother to rescue him, because he does not need _saving_."

Frigga's face softened. She had never considered that he may have wanted to stay in Midguard. She couldn't imagine a reason he would stay, but she was certain now that perhaps he could make it back own his own. Perhaps she had underestimated him. "Odin I..." before she could apologize, Odin fell slack into his throne.

Frigga moved quickly to the door, pulling it open. "Retrieve Thor at once." she commanded the warrior standing guard. "Make haste." Turning on her heel she moved back to Odin, cupping his cheek in her hand. "I am sorry, my love." she whispered. "I shall heed your command. I shall leave Loki on Midguard."

Frigga leaned in and kissed his forehead gently. "I shall see you when you wake."


	13. Nightmares and Birthdays

**Oh man guys...**

**Are you ready?**

**Because soon, very soon.**

**The shit is going to HIT THE FAN.**

**Also, there are some wonderful things in this chapter. .**

**Tell me what you think!**

**[erin]**

* * *

_Darkness._

_Silence._

_Cold._

_The sound of heavy breathing thick on her neck. She was alone, and she was afraid. In the distance she could make out shadows shifting, someone moving, something watching her. Paralyzed she lay still, watching, waiting. There was nothing else she could do but wait for the inevitable end. In the corner she could make out a creature as tall as a man, its features muddled by the dim light. She couldn't make out it's face. _

_"Hello?" she tried to call to the creature, trying desperately to move, to sit up, to do anything. To scream! She wanted to scream, for as the creature stepped closer fear and bile crept up her throat. Silence. She could not speak. _

_As the creature closed in on her, its features became distinguished. It most certainly was not human. Its skin was sickly gray and its eyes were like a demons, gold and set to the side of it's face, almost like a cat. Its cheeks were sunken in, making the being look skeletal. The creature's nose was flat with breathing slits, like a snake. Mouth agape, teeth bared and slick with drool, it drew closer to her. Hot breath could be felt on her face now, droplets of drool dripping onto her face._

_She trembled unable to move, unable to call out for help. Tears slid out the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. What did this thing want from her?_

_"You are the key." it growled, more drops of drool falling onto her. "We have searched for you, and we have found you." it continued in broken English. She could barely understand it. "We are coming, chosen." it smiled then, a grim and terrifying smile that made her shake to the core. "We shall take back what is ours, and we shall rule again." She wanted to ask who "they" were, but couldn't speak. As if it understood, it continued. "We are The Chitauri, you are The Chosen, and all will be as it should."_

And with that, she woke up.

* * *

Loki sat in the living room, reading as usual. He'd gone through most of the literature she'd had to offer already. Mostly works of fiction, droll and dreadful works of fiction he had to admit, but at least it passed the time. Humans slept an awful lot more than the Aesir. He wondered how much of their finite lives they spent asleep. He was certain he could do the calculations, but he feared the answer.

In fact, he feared mortality. He had never given it much thought until recently, but as of late it was mostly all he could think of. Mortal beings were so fragile, so delicate. Any incalculable number of things could destroy one or all of them at any moment in time. And yet, somehow they forged onward. Loki couldn't believe he was thinking this, but he actually in a way admired them for that. To be so brave on a daily basis, and act as if it were nothing.

His thoughts were disrupted as he heard Eireann walk down the stairs. Her red hair was wild, her eyes groggy with purple bags underneath them. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out she'd had a rough night's sleep. Loki set down the book he had been reading, and stood. "Are you well?" he asked, moving toward her. "You look distressed."

Eireann grunted, and waved her hand. She wasn't one for conversation in the morning. Walking past him, she entered the kitchen and headed straight for her coffee pot. "What time is it?" she mumbled, as she readied a pot of coffee to brew.

"I..." he paused, "Well I don't know. I'm not sure how time works down here." He admitted. Loki was certain time moved much differently on Asgard. They didn't really have much of a need to keep up with tracking it. Things happened on their own time there.

"Look at the clock." She grumbled her voice hoarse with sleep, tapping her fingers impatiently.

Loki looked around the room. What exactly did a _clock_ look like? He looked back into the kitchen, a his brow furrowed. "I am not entirely sure what a clock looks like." He admitted, pale cheeks flushing a bit. Eireann turned to him, her face blank. It looked as if she'd been crying. He moved forward, closing the gap between them. "Are you certain you are well?" he asked again, placing a hand on her shoulder. She nodded silently, turning as the coffee pot beeped, signaling it was ready. She fished a mug out of the cupboard and poured herself some, not bothering with sugar or milk. She turned to the living room and sat herself on the couch nursing her coffee.

Loki followed suit, sitting in the chair across the room. He studied her, watching every movement she made. Something was off, but he couldn't place it. She seemed... hesitant. After a long gap of silence he spoke again. "Eireann, if something is troubling you, please know that I will listen." he said softly, his head tilting to the side. It bothered him to see her this way, so out of character. Normally she was a firecracker, a beacon of energy and laughter, right now she was dismal. It turned his stomach.

She looked up at him, her green eyes weary. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. After a moment she set down her coffee and stood. "It's my birthday." she announced.

"Your what?" he asked, quirking a brow.

She smiled faintly. "It's my birthday. I was born 21 years ago on this day. Do you not celebrate birthdays in Asgard?" she asked.

"Well no, actually." he smirked, pleased that she was at least talking. "I presume it is because we live forever." he laughed. "After a while it would become a nuisance, I should think."

Eireann nodded, understanding. "Well we don't live forever here, and we celebrate every year we live on the day of our birth. It's tradition. Now, that being said, I'd like to do something for my birthday." she smiled coyly. "I am going to go upstairs and shower, and when I come back down, you are going to have something planned for my birthday." she headed for the stairs. "I don't expect you to give me a gift." she added before disappearing up the stairs.

Loki stood there a moment, not sure what to do. What the hell was he supposed to do for a birthday. He wasn't even sure of the customs. And did she mention a gift? Was it normal to receive a gift on one's birthday? Loki sighed and sat in the chair, placing his hand on his chin. "Humans." he said to himself, shaking his head. "I fear I shall never understand them."

* * *

Once she was out of the shower and looking presentable, Eireann made her way back downstairs. Not to her surprise, Loki was no where in sight. He had a habit of disappearing on her. She moved to sit on the couch when she noticed a flower laying on the floor just outside the kitchen entrance. Smiling she moved toward it, reaching down to pick it up. A rose, as red as blood. She lifted the flower to her nose taking in the rich aroma. Roses were her favorite. How could he have known? Glancing up, her heart dropped into her stomach.

A trail of rose petals led into the dining room, where on the table lay a feast fit for a king. All around the kitchen, white candles were floating lazily mid-air. Sitting at the far end of the table, Loki smiled as he saw the expression on her face. He stood, and moved toward her taking her hand. They walked wordlessly into the kitchen, sitting diagonally from each other. "Loki this is..." she took a deep breath, "I wasn't expecting this."

Loki grinned devilishly. "Have you not learned by now, dear student? Expect nothing, for you will never predict my actions." he waved his hand, igniting the candles placed upon the table. "I know not how you humans celebrate your birthdays, but in Asgard celebrations start with a feast." He gestured to the spread before them. "Please, help yourself."

"How did you prepare all of this in 15 minutes?" Eireann asked, helping herself to some of the exotic looking food before her, taking a plateful of what looked like chicken, some potato, and a green vegetable unknown to her.

"Magic, of course." he replied, taking nothing for himself. He was too nervous to eat. Why? Why was he nervous? He pushed the thought aside, resting his hand on the table.

"Should have known." she smiled, taking a bite of the chicken. For conjured food it tasted deliciously real.

"Would you like to talk about what was bothering you before?" he asked.

Eireann shook her head, swallowing. "Not really. It was just a nightmare."

"A nightmare?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "What of?"

"It's silly." she laughed, taking a bite of potato.

"It is not silly if it made you that uneasy." he retorted. "Dreams hold various meanings, at times they are signs of ones fears or hopes, and other times they can be premonitions, omens of things to come."

"I sure as hell hope not." Eireann shuddered, setting down her fork.

"Please, tell me what it was about." Loki moved to sit next to her taking her hand into his. Part of his brain told him that he was too attached, threatened that he was growing too close to the mortal. He ignored his inner war, and reached out to touch her face.

Eireann's heart jumped in her chest, drumming away as he touched her. This feeling in her chest made everything feel fuzzy. Was this love? No. Her brain began to grind to a halt_. "Not love Eireann, not love. You can't be in love with Loki. You can't. He's a god. You're a human."_ Her eyes met his. For a moment the world was still. Before she could help herself, she was out of her chair, standing above him. Her hand reached out to touch his face. The way their skin felt whenever they touched, alive. Electric.

She couldn't stop herself, she couldn't help it. The gap between them closed. Loki wasn't aware of what was happening until it happened. Their lips met. The stars ignited. It was as if every star in the universe went supernova at once. The world was bright, alive, and yet unstable. A hunger grew inside of him, a wild yearning. He stood, breaking the kiss.

"Oh my god." Eireann's hand flew to cover her mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. You're a god. I'm so sorry!" she said, manic. Before she could continue, Loki's lips were on hers again. Her eyes closed as their mouths melted together, working as one. Shivers ran down her spine, his lips were cold and sweet like ice cream. Wrapping her arms around him, she deepened the kiss. The world around her crumbled until there as nothing but Loki. Nothing else in the world mattered.

And then suddenly, reality set back in. She broke this kiss. "Loki?" she asked, questioning eyes looking up at him. "What are we doing?"

Loki looked down at her, eyes soft. "What we were made to do." he took her hands in his and sat her down. "There are some things I have not been entirely honest about. You and I have a great deal to talk about."

Eireann looked confused. "What do you mean."

"I shall explain everything, love." He said, running a finger down her cheek, cupping her chin. "Just listen."

* * *

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